


In Search of Arundo Donax

by j7j



Category: Nodame Cantabile
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Musical Composition, Musicians, Optimism, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j7j/pseuds/j7j
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A blueish-green piece composed on the banks of the Verdon River.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Search of Arundo Donax

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nnozomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nnozomi/gifts).



"Really," Tanya exasperates, "How gloomy can you get?"

It is her exclamation, rather than his own unshed tears, that bring him to the present. Kuroki blinks, but his vision refuses to focus, and he needs to swipe at the corner of his eyes. His attempt at discretion is in vain; Chiaki swivels from the stage, arching an eyebrow in concern.

"It's nothing," he mouths, rubbing again. The other man gives him an odd look -- one which he sees mimicked in Tanya's expression -- but as they're in the middle of a recital, nothing else is said.

He hadn't, Kuroki will insist, been _crying_. He was not the teary sort, first, and second, a springtime piece by Diabelli could hardly be called sad. Thankfully, he's pulled himself together by the end of the piece so when they are standing to applaud Nodame and Frank for bringing the recital to a close, neither Chiaki nor Tanya pursue the point.

-

Later, when he is mulling over Nodame's performance, Kuroki realizes he's in the midst of another rut. On the surface, he's progressing splendidly -- Roux Marlet is getting more popular with each season; his own recital piece had gotten a standing ovation; there are requests to play from both Germany and Austria and yet --

After listening to that impeccably vibrant Diabelli, he can't help but think: 'I want to play like that'.

It's silly, and precisely the sort of the thinking Nodame's interpretation inspired -- like watching an R★S Orchestra recording all over again -- and still, he's itching to play. So he hurries home after the drinks reception and plays until the downstairs neighbor stomps up, yelling 'it's half past eleven, some of us have jobs you know!'. And although he had played well, impeccably even, he can't shake the dissatisfaction.

-

In relaying his concerns to his primary instructor at the conservatory, Kuroki is reminded again of the differences in treatment between performer and student. Back in the orchestra and even the quartet, inexplicable frustrations which did not manifest in the music would have been brushed off; the shows goes on, as they say. But Monsieur Leleux seems intrigued rather than surprised. He leans forward, resting his chin atop laced fingers, and purses his lips.

"It comes and it goes," his instructor begins, "There are certain pieces and indeed, certain composers and, ahem, _conductors_ , which you will never fully grasp but -- " he lifts his head and claps his hands together, segueing in his usual disjointed fashion, "Have you ever considered composing, Monsieur Kuroki?"

"Ah, well -- " Kuroki stammers, taken aback by the abruptness of the suggestion, "Not really, no." He had always been able to find pieces capable of expressing his thoughts; to formulate his own interpretation was taxing enough.

"Really! Hm," Monsieur Leleux flares his nostrils slightly, murmuring about the differences in culture, "Well then, that can be your homework for this week."

"A -- a composition?" Kuroki repeats.

"Yes! Length is irrelevant, what's important is that you pour your, ah, well, the small tender sentiments!" he waves his hand flippantly, as if he hadn't done the equivalent of asking Kuroki to play with a plastic reed, "Now, onto the pieces for the Spring Recital..."

And that is that for the week's assignment as his instructor spends the rest of the lesson hemming and hawing over the perfect arrangement for the next recital. Many a student had confused Monsieur Leleux's airiness with absent-mindedness -- indeed, when he was signing off Kuroki's leave of absence form, he had casually mentioned wanting to try some Japanese delicacies. Kuroki had brought a selection back, but needed a month to work up the nerve to give the gift. And when he had, the frenchman had laughed, delighted, and said 'And here I was thinking you had forgotten!'.

So although the subject of a personal composition is not touched on and though Monsieur Leleux gives him the task of finding a piano accompanist for the recital (in addition to smoothing out the current repertoire), Kuroki knows the other will be expecting _something_ from him the following week.

-

Come evening and he pulls out a blank sheet of music paper and stares. And stares and stares and stares. This is dreadfully similar to a nightmare of his, where he had woken up for a concert and found himself unable to read any of the scores. That he's meant to fill in the blanks himself is no comfort; the black on white seems to stretch indefinitely. It takes him half an hour to settle on a tempo and he's rewritten the first two bars at least twenty times and (of course) they're all he has.

-

The finished piece spans five erased and re-erased pages, is less than two minutes long, and despite being the product of blood and sweat, Monsieur Leleux declares it to be --

"What a gloomy little thing!" he purses his lips and shakes his head, "Monsieur Kuroki, what am I to do with you?"

If Kuroki weren't already flushed, he would be.

"I'm sorry," he stammers, "It was the first time I tried to write anything."

"The music is not bad at all," his teacher reassures, plucking his own reed from the water and playing the last couple lines, "But you can already play this sort of music! Very well, we both know. But this piece... how should I say... it's a first glance. But if you will not give your psyche a second glance, who will?!"

And there it is, that lingering word. Kuroki had never been called _gloomy_ until Paris. In Japan, he had been serious, dedicated, perhaps a little stand-offish, but never gloomy. His instructor's description brings Tanya's initial judgment to mind, and with the unflattering episode, he recalls the blueish-green tint he had taken to seeing the word -- and himself -- as.

-

Pour your heart into it, Monsieur Leleux had repeated, as if it were as simple as that. His instructor also admitted he had no talent for composing, yet here he was, dictating away. Were it not for his sharp ears and defter fingers, Kuroki would not be bending over backwards for his wayward request.

In the second week of self-conscious inner plumbing, Kuroki sets the pencil down on the still-unmarked page and turns to his instrument for inspiration. In truth, as soon as he had picked up the oboe, he had never been alone again. It was difficult to explain to people like Chiaki, Nodame, and Tanya -- pianists, that is -- but having an instrument around so much gave life to it. He could never understand the ongoing struggle some of his fellow musicians had with their oboes; he had always appreciated the beautiful simplicity of their relationship. He took good care of it, supplying it with the finest reeds he could carve and the oboe, in turn, provided him with the finest music it could make.

Unfortunately, after a decade-long partnership, his instrument had developed a life -- and, perhaps more embarrassing, _voice_ , of its own. Oh, it was obedient when he was attentive, but he still remembers the disasterous competition right before the R★S Orchestra when he had faltered and his oboe had refused to play anything in E flat. Which, of course, had been the key his competition piece was in. But he had acknowledged the error of his ways and his attention hadn't strayed and now, while his oboe was in consistently perfect condition, he still found the music slipping away.

'Didn't you hear him the first time?' the oboe asks him, 'He wanted something from your heart, not another gloomy piece.'

It's difficult to write uplifting things in the Parisien January, Kuroki thinks, looking out the window at the evening fog. The moisture meant he had to make a new reed for tomorrow's Roux Marlet session. As he is eager for a distraction, he sets the writing materials aside and takes to carving.

Chip, chip, scrape.

'Not everything has to be gloomy or cheerful,' the oboe continues, 'There are things in-between, you know.'

The cellphone's ringing saves Kuroki the trouble of replying. He sets the unfinished reed aside and raises his eyebrows when the caller ID reads 'Megumi-chan'.

-

Two arrondissements away, Noda Megumi snaps her own cellphone shut with a satisfied smile.

"Oh Senpai," she mocks, "You were wrong again! He said yes!"

Still in the middle of clearing up their dishes, Chiaki pauses and frowns.

"What?"

"Kuroki-kun said yes," Nodame preens, "In fact, he even thanked me for inviting him!"

"Did you blackmail him," the conductor immediately asks.

"What! No!" There's a brief tussle as they struggle for the phone, "Senpai, what are you _doing_!"

Right as he's about to double-check with Kuroki, Nodame smiles in a leering fashion.

"Oh," she smiles, "Could it be... you actually wanted to come along and now you're jealous?" She drags the 'loux' out and Chiaki regrets ever teaching her the language; only Nodame could look so smug with such a contorted expression.

"Don't be ridiculous," Chiaki snaps, "First, I have a guest appearance to make and second, even if I _were_ free, you'd have to tie me up to drag me to another convention."

Nodame smiles, nonplussed. "That could be arranged."

"Like hell that could -- " his admonition is cut short with the vibration of a new text message.

"What is it, what is it?" And then, when Shinichi shows her the message, her smile stretches further: " _See_ ," she repeats, "I told you he was happy to be invited!"

"I don't believe this," Chiaki grumbles, "First Tanya and now Kuroki -- " he points at the incorrigible leech, "You're -- you're like a fungus, you know? Infecting everyone with your silly cartoons!"

"Don't listen to Senpai," Nodame turns towards her her stuffed figurine of Puri Gorota, tone reassuring, "He's had a terrible childhood with no friends growing up, always thinking of himself as the best, it's only natural for him to be jealous of -- "

"Who's jealous of whom!" Chiaki roars, making to swipe at the recently-won doll. But Nodame yanks it out of his grasp, leaving him with the trio of convention tickets. Having them in his grasp, he finally looks them over and raises his own eyebrows.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

And then it's his turn to wear a smug smile, "Did you tell Kuroki it would be in Var?"

"Of course I did," Nodame sniffs, "Weren't you listening?"

Au contraire, he was busy tidying up after their late supper. He takes one look at Nodame's unchanged expression and forces her to help clean too. Though she whines and moans and attempts bargaining her way out with more piano cleaning, the dining room and kitchen were spotless at the end of it. Still, the location certainly explained Kuroki's enthusiasm.

-

Unsurprisingly, Tanya had no interest in Puri Gorota or Var, and had been weasled along with the promise of free room and board (included in the winning set of tickets). And a tan. Oh yes, despite the perpetual fog of Paris, Tatiana Vishneva was determined to have that bronze-like shimmer in celebration of her recital ovation and stunning new body. And maybe, just maybe, the men of Southern France would be less stingy (and more single) than the ones up north.

For the four hour train ride from Paris to Toulon, Tanya and Nodame chatter avidly about the oncoming trip. Or rather, they talk at one another with little regard for what the other woman was saying.

"Ooh, ooh, look here! This is where Gorota found the golden egg!"

"My teacher said the Riviera has the best beaches."

"And here's where Kazuo-kun and Riona-chan made up in episode 58!"

"So I was wondering, should I go out in my one piece or my bikini?"

"Or was it episode 68? Hmm..."

"I mean I want to show off how much weight I lost but on the other hand, I don't want to stick out too much, I've heard the people on the coast are weirdly prudish."

Both women turn to Kuroki at the same time.

"Kuroki-kun!"

"Yasu!"

"Do you remember -- when Kazuo-kun and Riona-chan made up after saving the bear in the valley -- was it in episode 58 or 68?"

"Do you think I'd make a better impression in a one piece or a bikini?"

If Kuroki were the type to 'um' or 'uh' he would have dragged the syllable out for a while. Being himself, he stares from one expectant pianist to the next, uncertain how to answer either question.

"Nevermind," Nodame declares, "It's episode 60, what was I thinking."

"Shoot, I didn't even pack the bikini," Tanya remembers at the same time, "One piece it is, I guess."

And so Kuroki lets out a long breath and, without meaning to, glances at his oboe case. Would it be bad form, he wonders, to chisel out a reed during the train ride? His oboe is quiet at least, though its silence somehow comes off as smug.

-

After a harrowing night and day and night spent at the Puri Gorota convention, Kuroki Yasunori can now recognize all thirty characters from the series and can also recite the main four characters' backstories and relations with one another well enough to garner Nodame's approval. That he didn't even know of the series back in Japan goes without saying.

"Oh Kuroki-kun," Nodame sighs, eyes twinkling with unshed tears, "I didn't think you liked them, but -- but!" Whipping her head around in record time, she spies -- "Muu-- kya! Those are the last Riona-chan dolls!" A now-familiar fire blazes in her gaze as she pulls her wallet out with a flourish, commanding: "Wait here! I'll buy one for you because you memorized all their names so well!" She tosses the distressing amount of merchandise onto the empty seat next to Tanya (more knick-knacks for Chiaki to organize, no doubt) before dashing off.

Tanya, busy nursing stiletto-swollen feet courtesy of standing hours in an autograph line, gives a grunt of acknowledgement when Kuroki pushes himself up onto his feet.

"I'm getting some water, would you like anything?" he asks, clearing his throat.

"An axe to chop my feet off," she groans, muttering something like 'ocoal' in her native tongue, "Why did I think it was a good idea to wear these shoes...!"

Kuroki returns with two bottles of water and a plastic baggy filled with ice. Tanya gives him a look of pure gratitude, then sees the Gorota face plastered on the edge of the bottle and groans again, swiping the ice-filled baggy to press against her aching toes.

"I could die happy never seeing this -- this deformed face ever again!" she declares. Kuroki wisely refrains from noting the character's name or myriad positive attributes. Tanya gives another mutter of thanks before switching feet. As strange as it felt, their three-man group blended in well at the convention. Its location and subject matter meant there was an even mix of Western and Eastern otaku -- a categorization Kuroki had previously loathed using but when placed before fanatics like Frank and Nodame, well.

"Okay," Tanya starts, combing the hair from her face and feeling much more human, "Spill the beans, why are you here?"

"What?"

"C'mon, you know my reason. I can't believe you stayed through all that!" Tanya had ditched the first day of the convention to go tanning and needed to be cajoled into coming along for the second day.

"Oh -- um," Kuroki scratches at the back of his neck, "I figured, since the convention ends today and the train back is Tuesday... well," he feels even more self-conscious without his oboe, left alone in its case in their shared hotel room, and stammers out: "I wanted to see where the reeds are made."

"Reeds?" she repeats, brows furrowing, "Oh! Oh, they're made here? Really?"

"Well it's all in the same district. There's a place where they grow."

Tanya laughs, leaning back into her chair, "Jeez," she adds, rolling her eyes and smiling with fondness, "You've got a one-track mind, you know? I thought it was bad enough you brought your oboe with you, but that you practice it every night!"

"Is it keeping you up?" Kuroki immediately demands, flushing.

"No, no," she rolled her eyes again, "Why are you so quick to -- I mean, argh! Why do you always jump to the wrong conclusion? It sounds good, okay?" She switches the ice pack with a sigh and adds: "I wish I had that sort of passion."

Nodame returns before Kuroki can comprehend the weight of the compliment, loaded with another armful of stuffed dolls.

"Here you go Kuroki-kun," she beams, handing him a figurine he can now recognize as Prilalin, Prililin's younger sister who appeared in the finale to season three, "And this one's for Tanya! And these two are for Frank, I'll try to sneak this one into Senpai's bag before he leaves for Vienna..."

-

While the three of them are ambling back from another mediterranean meal, Tanya elbows Kuroki.

"What?"

She says nothing but gives him a look. _You know_.

"What is it?" Nodame asks. Her face is glowing after three glasses.

"Nothing," Kuroki answers.

"It's not nothing," Tanya interjects, "Yasu, you'll never get what you want without _asking_."

"Asking what?" Nodame presses. She taps her chin and then grins, too tipsy to be gleeful: "Did you mean... you wanted to go to Verdon Gorge?"

"How did you -- "

"Wait, look here!" Nodame pulls her cellphone out with a flourish.

Tanya squints at the screen, "A... reservation for a kayak?"

"Senpai arranged it," she turns to Kuroki, smiling, "Well? Do you like it?"

This is Chiaki's brand of kindness, he knows. Regardless of whether there was anything to be found, Kuroki finds himself filling with a pleasant warmness.

"It's perfect," he replies, quirking his lips.

"There!" Tanya declares, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Kuroki must be a little drunk himself, for he reaches out to tweak her nose.

-

The two pianists are woken bright and early Monday morning to the sound of D'Indy's Op. 31.

"Well someone's eager," Tanya remarks, rolling out of bed and stretching.

"Uwaah," Nodame exclaims, eyes sparkling, "This is a French piece, right?"

"Mmm, Fantasy on French Folk Tunes I think."

After washing and dressing, the two of them sit side-by-side, admiring the delicate yet haunting notes. Their hotel balcony faces north so they have neither the sea nor the sun, but the slant of light makes oboe and oboist almost ethereal.

"Oh!" Nodame exclaims as the tempo becomes more upbeat, "It's almost like a march now, right?"

Tanya nods, humming along.

When the fantasy ends, Kuroki pulls back the glass door to a round of applause.

"Ah -- sorry," he immediately says, "Did I wake you?"

"Enough with the apologizing," Tanya insists, "Don't we have a kayak to catch?"

-

The Verdon Gorge is as picturesque as the guide books had said it to be: a vibrant valley that seemed to be trapped eternally in the fullness of spring. As with the rest of the district, there is no sign of the January chill in this pocket of the country and the waters of the meandering river are a sparkling turquoise hue.

As usual, Kuroki had succumbed to his oboe's wants, taking both instrument and case along with him. It was hard to believe, that _this_ was region where most of the world's reeds were made.

Nodame had lost the first round of rock-paper-scissors and was thus left without an oar. She was the one who first remarked on the peculiar color of the river.

"Glauque," she says, pointing.

Kuroki tenses, on the cusp of someting defensive, but Nodame only points at the water with emphasis, repeating herself.

"It is, isn't it?" she insists, turning to Tanya.

"You're right," Tanya agrees, stopping her rowing to look over the edge. "Oh gosh, these waters are so _clear_!"

"I wish I could have eyes like these," Nodame says wistfully.

"It's only make you look even more ridiculous," Tanya laughs.

"At least I didn't wish for my skin to be this color!" Nodame retorts.

Like that, the three of them drift down the river, taking turns rowing. The sun has nearly reached its summit by the time Kuroki sees the first patch of Giant Cane.

"Wait!" he called out, as his fingers itched with excitement. His oboe demands to be plucked from its case. "Can we -- can we stop here?"

"Here?" Tanya asks, furrowing her brow.

"Maa," Nodame sighs, as they watched Kuroki pull the kayak up to the riverbank and wade over to the patch of reeds, "Senpai warned me about this..."

Like a man possessed, Kuroki pulls his pocketknife out, knicking a good feet off of the nearest outgrowth and marveling at how firm yet light the cane was in his hand. Of course, reeds were not like food in that they were not better closer to the source but nonetheless, there was something... magical... about seeing them at the source.

"What is he doing?" Tanya whispers.

"Umm... making a reed?"

" _Here_?" Tanya repeats, wondering where she had gone wrong in life. Choosing to chop bamboo over getting a tan!

"Senpai said this is where most of the reeds in the world are grown," Nodame explains, caught between amusement and admiration.

Self-consciousness aside, Kuroki had come prepared, fully aware of how few opportunities there were for an oboist to come face-to-face with the _Arundo donax_. In fact, he is halfway through with winding the staple when a man appeared on the other side of the riverbank and began screaming at them.

Long story short: he was the owner of the cane patch and his family had been in the reed business since oboes were called hautbois. His southern accent was so heavy that only Tanya could understand him -- and she still needed him to slow down and repeat himself. Thankfully, rather than levy a fine for trespassing and destruction of property, he gestures to Kuroki's instrument case.

"He wants to hear you play," Tanya translates.

The owner tosses a reed case over; Kuroki opens it to find six neatly-arranged reeds; three double and three single. Three sets of eyes look upon him expectantly as he selects one of the reeds. At a glance, he knows an immense amount of craftsmanship went in -- the reed weighs a third of his normal ones and when he lifts it to catch the midday sun, sure enough, he sees that the heart is nearly transparent. His whole body is tingling with excitement, a sentiment his oboe reciprocates -- eager as usual to be the center of attention. He slots the reed in before pressing the instrument to his lips, closing his eyes to let the oboe lead the way.

Neither gloomy nor cheerful; not inspiring nor cajoling --

He finishes the piece and sees in his impromptu audience, the same expression he had worn for winter recital.

And he thinks:

Oh. I wanted this, too.

-

The rest of the day passes by in a blur as the owner takes them in and tows them, along with their rented kayak, back to warehouse where all the canes were dried out and cut into reeds. There's an old but well-tuned piano there which Nodame and Tanya take turns practicing on. The three of them even manage an impromptu trio for oboe and two pianos. When they're returning the kayak and bidding farewell to the owner, Kuroki realizes he still has a long way to go before being able to bring out the true potential of his instrument -- and that he's _excited_ to do so. It was a good idea, he thinks again, to have come to Paris.

And so, on the train to Paris, he works up the courage to ask Tanya to accompany him for the Spring Recital.

"Sure," Tanya says, blowing a bubble and trying to ignore Nodame, drooling away on her shoulder, "But on one condition."

Feeling oddly at ease, Kuroki swallows.

"Deal."

"Return the favor at competition time," she grins. Kuroki finds himself smiling too. They shake on it and it's a promise.

-

"Much better," Monsieur Leleux says at their next meeting, tapping his fingers in remembrance of the tune. "And I must say, Monsieur Kuroki, you yourself look to be in better spirits too!"

Resting in his hands, his oboe gives a buzz of contentment. His newly-acquired reed was as imperfect as the rest, but uniquely suited to his style of play. He thinks of Chiaki, worrying in his own way, and Nodame, introducing him to cartoons from home, and Tanya, who would be performing with him at least twice, and smiles.

"I know," he smiles, "Good things have been happening to me."


End file.
